


Healing Scars

by Netromancer



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, Child Abuse, Cole is hard to write but I love him dearly, Depression, Developing Relationship, Drabble Collection, First Kiss, First Love, Gay Male Character, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Other, Slow Romance, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 10:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11689764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Netromancer/pseuds/Netromancer
Summary: Short stories, some connected, some not, about my OC Feron and his relationship with Cole. Critique is always welcome.





	Healing Scars

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for child death and abuse. 
> 
> Takes place shortly after Subjected to his Will is completed and Cole is made more human.

The clash of metal bounces off the trees and rattles in his head. Blood and spit and sweat soaking the ground that has seen many old and messy wars. The girl who died here choked on her own vomit because they wouldn't take the gag off.

  
Cole's face is inscrutable as his dagger slices open the slaver's throat. He splutters, makes noises akin to a squealing pig before he keels over, ale still fresh on his teeth and eyes dark like the inside of a well. He's dead before he hits the ground. Cole's dagger is seeping bright red, dripping. The wind whips at his back and he smells rain in the air, the first few drops hesitant as they patter against fallen shields and death stained swords.

  
He feels more than hears the slaver behind him. The one who forced the strange herbs down the girl's throat and told her to shut up even as she cried and tried to spit it all out. Cole half turns, daggers raised, and there's a sharp gust of air and a wet thump as the slaver is pierced. His eyes widen, dropping the sword as his hands came to his throat where the head of an arrow has torn through flesh. He chokes, fumbles to yank it out and collapses, eyes rolling in the back of his head. Cole stands over him, chest tight with anticipation as he studies his surroundings carefully. The sky had burned into black ages ago, the only shadows coming from a small campfire that cracked and hissed and made the shadows dance around it. Footsteps sounded from ahead, careful ones that creaked from well worn leather boots and the clink of buckles.

  
_"Someone's gotten here first. Slave or rescuer? Blood on daggers and an odd hat, why does he just stand there? Many bodies but none look like hers, could that mean-"_

 

"No," Cole says, "She died."

  
The stranger stops. His bow is slung over his shoulders, arrows held in a leather quiver attached to a belt on his waist. A hood hides his face, only the low slope of his jaw and crooked chin visible to curious eyes. He tilts his head and the firelight catches his eyes, a brief glimmer of deep browns before they're gone again, consumed by shadow.

  
"Is it me you're talking to?" the man asks. His voice is lilt, like the Dalish, but Cole doesn't hear the old songs in him. He hears crying children, the crack of wood hitting skin and the clink of coins. The man can't be much older than Cole.

  
"Yes," Cole says, ducks his head low out of habit. "The girl died hours ago."

  
The man's shoulders slump, his mouth popping open before shutting again. He nods once before treading into the small makeshift camp. It doesn't take him long to find the girl, her body slumped to one side, red hair strewn across a delicate little face marred with dried tears and flecks of vomit. The man kneels beside her, his bandaged hand carefully brushing away the hair.

  
"You poor petal," he whispers.

  
_"Little hands hold a small leather pouch. "Here's all I have." It's not enough but the words don't come. "I'm looking for my mama." Bright, pink cheeks, freckles, a gap toothed grin. Her mother was killed days ago but she never knew. They're together now."_

  
If the young man hears him, he shows no reaction. From his boot he brandishes a knife and uses it to cut the gag from the girl's mouth. After tucking the knife away he gently takes her into his arms and lifts her. From her hand falls a leather pouch that rattles when it hits the ground. He hadn't taken the money.

  
"Here," he says, "I'll pay you if you help me bring her back to town. Don't know if these lot had friends that will come looking."

  
"Yes," Cole says. "I can help. I'm used to the dark."

  
"Oh. Well. That's good, I suppose."

  
"I'm Cole. I help people and sometimes I kill people too, though not as often. Not anymore," Cole says as they walk together.

  
"Alright. I'm Feron. Sometimes I kill people too."

  
"You killed the Templar who killed her mother."

  
The man's - Feron's - head snaps towards Cole. "How do you know that?"

  
"You were thinking about it. You didn't want to tell her her mother died but you don't have to anymore. They're together again."

  
Feron's eyes bore into Cole's skull as the young spirit strides ahead.

 

* * *

 

The girl is given to the village Chantry where she will receive a proper burial alongside the mother who had been taken from her by the rogue Templar. Feron appears as though he wants to linger, feet unsure of what to do, but the sister's hard stare turns him away. Feron takes Cole by the elbow, a brief moment of contact before he drops his hand and leads them both out into the night air. The rain hammers down steadily, splashes hitting the cobblestone paths and erupting into sparks. Feron sighs and sits on the stone steps leading up into the Chantry, shifting his bow and quiver so they lie on his side. From inside his tattered leather coat he pulls out small cloth bag tied with string and hands it up to Cole.

  
"Miserable little creature," Cole says, his calloused fingers tracing the stitching of the bag.

  
"What?"

  
"The sister thinks you're a miserable little creature," Cole replies as he joins Feron on the step.

  
The hooded man sighs. "Right. Lovely. Thank you for that." A pause. "Can you... Do you read people's minds?"

  
"Something like that. I hear when they're hurting and I help. She blames you for the girl's death but it was the slavers who kidnapped and killed her."

  
Feron presses his lips together and says nothing. _Guilt, ugly and churning in the middle, bitter and burning and filling the void where the hate couldn't reach. You are scum, grown and become the rat himself. She deserved so much better, eyes bright like a Spring morning and a laugh like a tinkling bell. You were my sister and I never got to tell you._

  
"I was looking for people too," Cole says as the silence grows too heavy, "There was an ambush and I got separated from my friends. Templars with the red seeping out of them."

  
"You mean those monsters that sound like people sometimes? Wait, are they your friends or were they the ambush?"

  
"They were the ambush. I slipped and fell into a ravine, the currents carried me away and now I can't find my friends. I thought the camp was them until I saw the slaves and heard their pain. So I freed them and killed their captors."

  
Feron whistles low, leaning forward to rest his weight on his elbows across his knees. "Just by yourself? Maker, you're definitely not someone to trifle with then, eh?" He sits up then, half turns so they're faced with each other. "You know, if you're wanting help with finding your friends, I'm up for it."

  
"Really?" Cole asks, lips curling in the corners. He needs to smile more, Varric's told him so.

  
"Yeah. Better than traipsing about on your own with not a clue on where to go. We'll get some shut-eye, wait for the storm to blow over and then head out. Whoever your friends are, they can't have gotten far."

 

Feron smiles then, genuine, dimples in his cheeks and a light spray of freckles over his nose that curves like a beak. Heat rises in Cole's face and he turns away, his chest clenching.

  
"Hopefully." 


End file.
